


Snow

by jaysayheyyy



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Everyone Dies/No One Lives, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Sad Ending, Sorry?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaysayheyyy/pseuds/jaysayheyyy
Summary: Everyone dies sometime, you know.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is all angst! Turn back now, ye of frail disposition! Kidding. It's winter here and I'm getting tired of the snow. I actually wrote this at the beginning of winter, but totally forgot about it.

“It’s snowing.”

Zero’s remark from his perch at the window grabs Rabbit’s attention, her hands pausing in her knitting. It’s a hobby she’s recently taken up, though not for much practical use. She can knit gloves and hats but there’s not many humans she could give them too, if any at all. Rabbit hums, her voice box crackling as she follows Zero’s gaze. It’s snowing, that’s for sure. Not just a slight drizzle, either; the thick, white flakes are visible even to Rabbit’s damaged eyes. Spine, whose legs have long since been paralyzed, raises his head as best as he can. It had taken the combined efforts of Rabbit and Zero to move him to the living room, and Rabbit’s joints still sparked from the strain. She didn’t know if she could lift him again, even with help. 

“Sure is, buddy.” Spine replies after a moment, though his voice cuts out every so often. Rabbit doesn’t have it in her to wince anymore, but the pity never seems to fade. Spine has never wanted nor needed her pity, though, and either ignores or doesn’t see her gaze on him. Spine’s green eyes, one dimmer than the other, track the snowflakes almost longingly. Rabbit watches him quietly. He looks like he wants to go outside. But snow is tricky, see, because it’s cold until it seeps into your joints and the electricity warms it up, and then it’s all too easy for the melted results to screw up any exposed wiring. Which, between the three of them, is much more than the unexposed, undamaged wiring. For any of them to leave the mansion would mean death.

They’re definitely not the same as they were in their prime. Zero’s really the only one who could sing out of the three of them, with Rabbit’s voice box damaged and Spine’s ready to give out any moment. There’s other things, of course, like the permanent limp Rabbit has or the way Spine’s, well, spines won’t retract, and how Zero’s missing half his face, but they stopped mattering a while ago. When you’re the last living beings in the world, your soul becomes top priority. And music, for them, has always been from the soul. The aches and pains of unmendable injuries are nothing in the face of the music that has followed them since their creation. 

But, well, we’ve gotten off track. Rabbit’s been staring at Spine long enough for it to be strange, and Zero’s caught on. They all know what she’s thinking. More so what Spine’s thinking, to be honest. Out of the three of them he’s the worst for wear, and morbid as it is, Rabbit’s been solemnly waiting for the day she wakes up and he doesn’t. It’s an inevitability at this point. There’s no Walter Workers to fix him up, no Peter Walter of any number to replace his parts, not even a car mechanic who could take a guess. She doesn’t want to admit it aloud, but they all know it. 

Spine’s dying. 

He looks over at her. Meets her eyes for the first time in a while. She doesn’t know what he sees there. Resignation, maybe. Guilt. Grief. He’s her brother, always has been, but closer than her other younger siblings. For a while it’d been just the two of them, after all, created in such a short time frame that they could be considered twins. She loves him more than anything, and she knows that he doesn’t want to wither away, waiting for the day he doesn’t wake up. Waiting’s the worst part. You don’t know when it’s coming, but you know it is, and so the tension never leaves until the day it finally happens. And the look on Spine’s face tells her that he’s done waiting. He’s ready to go now. 

“You wanna go outsi-si-si-side, Spine?” Rabbit asks. Zero doesn’t look away from the window. 

“Yeah,” Spine replies, looking past her, “Yeah, I think I do.” 

So Rabbit stands herself up, her joints creaking, reaching out for her brother. After a moment’s pause, Zero follows, sad spurts of steam escaping his rusted vents from the movement. They’re gentle, as always, Spine’s arms wrapping around both of their shoulders. Rabbit adjusts her grip and counts them down, standing in time with Zero. No matter how many times they’ve done it, Spine never seems used to it, grimacing lightly as gravity threatens to pull him down. 

“We’ve gotcha, buddy.” Zero reassures him. In time with Rabbit’s counting they make their way to the open door and onto the steps, carefully maneuvering Spine. Rabbit lost her sense of touch a while ago, but her sensors indicate it’s below freezing. The sky is a strange mixture of red and grey, the pollution of the bombs still thick in the air. The snow is soft under Rabbit’s feet, kicking up into the air as easily as dust. It only takes a few steps for Spine to ask them to stop. 

“Ri-ri-right here?” Rabbit asks, glancing up at the sky. Spine nods. “Alright.” Gently, more carefully than they’ve ever handled him before, Rabbit and Zero lower Spine down to the cold snow. His hat tilts sideways, and Zero leans down to adjust it. Here, Spine looks satisfied, flakes of snow falling down towards him. He watches from his lied down position, folding his hands over his chest like he’s cloudwatching. Rabbit’s heart squeezes at the sight. 

“Goodni-ni-ni-ni--” Rabbit’s vents exhale steam in her frustration as the sorrow finally catches up to her, cutting off her speech with a crackle. 

Zero’s hand registers as heavy on her shoulder as he finishes for her, “Goodnight, Spine. Sleep well.” Spine smiles softly. 

“‘Night Zero. ‘Night Rabbit.” And then, low and rough, Spine’s voice fills the air with one last song.

Rabbit can’t move from her spot beside him. Her feet are too heavy, her hands shaking. She wants to stay here at his side, but the snow is starting to seep through her coat. Zero already looks fatigued, one hand shielding his face as best it can. His other hand is still on her shoulder, and with a firm nudge, he turns Rabbit away from her brother and steers her back towards the mansion. As soon as they cross the threshold, Rabbit’s core makes this awful keening noise, lighting up bright, painful blue. Her legs give out beneath her as her hand clamps over her core, curling in on herself. 

The weight of Zero’s hand disappears, but Rabbit doesn’t notice. She hears him singing softly by the window, though it barely fazes her as her core shrieks in sorrow. Oil streams down her face, though she barely spares a thought towards the waste of precious resources. Spine will not be there when she wakes up. Nothing but metal and clothes will wait for her, her brother long gone by morning. She can’t seem to reconcile the thought. He was alive moments ago-- how could he be gone? No more good mornings, no more good nights, no more singing late in the night under the stars-- nothing. 

It feels like forever later that Rabbit is able to pick herself up off the floor. When she does, she turns to Zero, though she knows what she will find long before she sees it. With Spine gone, Zero had succumbed to his grief. The song her core brokenly sings is sad and rings in her metal bones as she kneels in front of Zero, whose chin rests against his chest. His core is dim and his eyes are dark. He is gone. Out of six automatons, Rabbit is the last one left. All her siblings left. All her friends, taken.

The loose ends have long been tied up. The manor seemed to know when it was time to secure the blue matter stored here, and locked the safes before the automatons had even thought to. Pappy’s research and the research of all those who came after him is also locked away. Any human who managed to survive the warfare won’t find anything but husks of metal and a manor one might call haunted, if you were superstitious. There’s nothing left for Rabbit to do. 

So, Rabbit takes Pappy’s goggles from atop her hat and grasps them firmly, seating herself under the portrait of Pappy that had been painted and hung long ago. She has a good view of the snow falling outside. It’s peaceful. I’m ready now, Rabbit thinks, and echoes the sad, sad song her core is singing. 

The blue light in her chest flickers once, twice, before winking out like the stage lights at the end of the show. 


End file.
